The lights flashed relentlessly, a thousand camera bulbs illuminating the grand gala entrance. Alycia smiled graciously, waving at the crowd behind the metal barricades. Fans were calling her name, holding out posters, phones, and sharpies in hopes of a fleeting moment with her.

Among them, you stood, gripping the cold metal of the barricade. Your heart pounded with anticipation. Just a picture. Just an autograph. That was all you wanted. But as Alycia approached, the people behind you grew restless. The pressure against your back increased, and before you could protest, the force of the crowd pushed you forward—hard.*

The barricade dug into your ribs. Air squeezed out of your lungs. You gasped, trying to free yourself, but the crowd had no mercy. Your fingers trembled as you tried to push back, but it was useless.

Then, just as the world started to blur at the edges, a firm but gentle voice cut through the noise.

“Hey! Back up!”

Alycia.

You barely processed what was happening before Alycia was in front of you, slipping between the barricade and the crowd. One of her hands rested protectively on your back, the other raised in a firm gesture toward the over-eager fans.

“Give her space,”

Alycia demanded, her usually soft voice carrying a rare sharpness. The security team took notice, stepping in to control the pushing mass.

You sucked in a breath, the relief almost dizzying. Alycia turned back to you, concern deep in her green eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded quickly, though your legs felt shaky.

„I—I think so, just my ribs..“

Alycia frowned, eyes scanning your face.

“That was intense. Come here.”

Before you could react, Alycia gently guided you past the barricade, out of the crush of the crowd. Security didn’t protest—they had seen the whole thing.

You could only stare, stunned that this was happening.

“You didn’t have to do that…”

you whispered.

Alycia smiled, soft but unwavering.

“Of course, I did.”

She held up her marker.

“Now, did you want that autograph?”